If you called me “vanilla,” I’d thank you for the compliment. When the hell did being delicious become a negative? Vanilla isn’t boring. It’s versatile, subtle, and luxurious. I have more feelings about vanilla than I do about whatever artisan cashew-caramel-chrysanthemum ice cream qualifies as “interesting” these days. But if vanilla ice cream is one thing above all else, it’s abundant. In my time on Earth, I have made it my mission to taste it all, to find the best one. And I have. Adirondack Creamery makes the best pint of vanilla ice cream in the whole damn world.
The first time I tried Adirondack’s vanilla, I ate the whole pint. With absolutely zero premeditation, I picked it up from Whole Foods, and headed home with destruction on the mind. A short while later, I held the empty pint in my hands, staring in wonder, as my roommate made a comment about how I’d be feeling like a pile of human garbage within the next half hour.
Look at that packaging, though. It tells you everything you need to know. There aren’t any marketing gimmicks, no elaborate attempts at an expression of heritage or nostalgia from a Brooklyn branding agency, no "all-natural" claims included in excess. The only hint at extravagance is the golden hue of the word “Vanilla,” which lets you know that yes, you will feel like royalty while eating this ice cream. Not opulent, Marie Antoinette-style royalty. Elizabeth I-style royalty, humble, confident, and loved by your people. Adirondack Creamery vanilla ice cream is fit to rule.
What separates the good vanilla ice cream from the great, in terms of actual vanilla flavor, is balance. Vanilla should never overwhelm. It shouldn’t taste like extract or sugar alcohols. It shouldn’t taste like someone beat you over the head with a vanilla bean pod. Adirondack nails the vanilla level. The flavor of Tahitian and Madagascar vanilla beans simply exists, the way the sound of birds chirping surrounds you in the woods. The birds aren't visible. They're just there. And it's lovely. Can you tell that this ice cream makes me feel things? Yeah? Good.
But texture is where Adirondack’s vanilla truly dominates. It lives in a velvety place between soft serve and hard ice cream. Ten minutes on your counter. That’s the priming time for this pint, which is made with high quality cream from Boice Bros Dairy in Kingston, NY. Take it out of the freezer and wash the dishes. Take it out of the freezer and get a quick ab workout in. Take it out of the freezer and just stare at it. It doesn’t matter what you do in those ten minutes, you’ll end up with a pint of vanilla so beautifully smooth and scoop-able it will inspire songs on a Paul McCartney, "Maybe I’m Amazed" level of love.
And that means it’s easy to cut through (unlike some scoops of vanilla that resemble boulders more than anything else). This consistency makes it prime for everything from root beer floats to apple pie-topping to a canvas for a bit of granola and fresh berries. Like Santana and Rob Thomas, Adirondack Creamery knows what it means to be smooth (Sorry, I had to).
I know, vanilla ice cream seems like an unusual thing to develop such strong convictions about, but this is the life I lead. And in this life, I put all of my faith, love, and support into Adirondack Creamery. It truly is the best vanilla ice cream, and the respect and happiness it inspires is unmatched, even when I finish the entire pint and proceed to snooze off the effects on my couch.